


Prompt #37

by Ambros



Series: Tumblr Prompts [38]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: And violence, Angst, Bamf!Magnus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Alec, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rating Is For Torture, but be careful, i wouldn't say it's graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-05
Packaged: 2019-01-09 11:39:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12275703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambros/pseuds/Ambros
Summary: - “He made you weak,” Apofis barks behind them, coughing with every word as he tries to stand up again, “I remember when you cared about your own people. You think this is over?” Magnus closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, “Others will come for him. They'll always co – ”, but the words die in his throat as Magnus turns and stalks over to him, his magic making the loft shake as his fingers curl like claws and red energy closes around Apofis' body, lifting him off the ground.“Let them come,” Magnus growls, his magic heating up, the smell of burned flesh filling the air, “You'll serve as an example.”





	Prompt #37

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to ifallonblackdays on Tumblr for the prompt: "Hiii! *waves excitedly* Could you please, please, please write a Malec story where some dissident warlock who hates the thought of the Downworlders fraternizing with the Shadowhunters attacks Alec in the loft while Magnus is out, to teach Magnus a lesson and "remove the temptation" that is Alec? And Magnus comes home and goes all BAMF on the warlock and he takes care of a hurt Alec? Thanks! Love your writing!"  
> Hopefully this is close to what you had in mind :3

Yellow eyes stare unblinkingly into the bowl of water, trembling images cutting the surface; scales-covered fingers move lightly across the water, dark and curved claws barely brushing the surface as the images change.

A sweet smile curls a lipless mouth, a hiss accompanying the words as the water stills: “You are going to bleed so prettily.”

*

“Oh, shit,” Magnus says, his voice low for the shock, and Alec immediately stops, muscles tense, he looks around with his hand on the hilt of his sword before he looks at Magnus: “What's going on?”

They are a few steps away from the loft and Magnus is frowning at his phone, his lips pressed in a thin line; he looks up with a determined set to his jaw: “I need to go help a friend,” he says, determination undermined by worry, and Alec steps closer to him, his hand abandoning the hilt of the sword to brush against Magnus' fingers, wound tightly around the phone. “You want me to come with you?” he asks, a concerned frown between his eyes.

Magnus takes in the purple circles around Alec's eyes and shakes his head, turns his hand against Alec's and ties their fingers together for a moment, the light coming from the screen of his phone lighting up the darkness between them; he presses a brief kiss against his lips: “It's probably best if you don't,” he says, kind, “Apofis isn't a fan of Shadowhunters.”

Alec hums, tries not to frown, and Magnus presses another kiss against the corner of his lips: “I'll be back as soon as I can.”

He turns to walks towards the dark street behind the building, the screen still lit up in the palm of his hand reading _help me_ followed by an address.

Alec sighs as he watches him go.

*

Magnus' magic always feels different when Magnus isn't with him; it feels strained and tense, it slips under Alec's skin and sits there like it's not supposed to, and Alec frowns as he shrugs off his jacket. It feels _unwelcoming_ in a way Alec has never experienced, and it almost makes him walk out of the loft – it feels _unfamiliar_ , and that's when he realizes, too late, a hissing sound filling his ears as he instinctively dives out of the way, his hand grasping the hilt of his sword just barely before _something_ wraps around his whole body, tight, _too tight_ , like invisible ropes running around his torso, his arms, his legs, his throat, and his instinct screams at him to move, to get space, air, he struggles, tries to push, blood pooling and pulsing where the pressure is stronger, but the more he tries to break free the tighter the force holds him, the less he can breathe.

Panic starts to flood his brain, making his breaths quicker, shorter, and that's when a hooded figure steps in the room, the hissing sound so loud Alec can hear it over the rush in his ears, over the oxygen he's desperately trying to drag in his lungs.

“Pretty,” the figure comments; translucent ropes of energy are curled around his wrist and wrapped tightly around Alec, they catch the light as he steps closer: “But not nearly pretty enough,” he says, clicking his tongue, head bent on his shoulder like he's considering him, and Alec almost loses the oxygen he's managed to drag in his lungs when the Warlock pushes his hood back to reveal a scales-covered skin, yellow eyes with vertical pupils looking at him, “Not to mention,” a mocking smirk curls his lipless mouth, “not very bright. I'll admit,” he adds, his voice oddly soft, like a whisper, the hiss almost covering it, “I was hoping you'd put up a fight. But, alas.”, he waves his long fingers, black claws clicking together, and Alec's eyes widen in horror as his middle and index fingers' claws extend and thin, until they are almost three inches long.

Alec keeps struggling against the pressure on his chest, every breath more shallow and difficult than the one before, his teeth biting down on his lip so hard he can taste blood, he keeps thinking _I mustn't panic_ obsessively and it's all he can do not to faint, his vision getting blurrier by the second, he spits out: “Who are you?”, voice thin, bargains time with oxygen.

“An old friend of Magnus',” the Warlock says, seemingly unaffected by the question, like he was expecting it, like he _wants_ to answer.

“Why,” Alec says, not even a question, ropes so tight around his chest he can't breathe in and he can't breathe out, adrenaline fighting against the lack of oxygen to keep him awake.

“You see,” the Warlock says, twisting his wrist just so and the pressure around Alec's chest lessens, allowing him to drag in painful breaths, “there was a time when Downworlders wouldn't dream of getting involved with the likes of you.”, he explains, voice still soft; he's close enough that he can gently place the tips of his extended claws on Alec's stomach, “There was a time,” he says, and suddenly pushes against Alec's shirt, against his skin, and Alec _screams_ , pain running deep and sharp in his stomach, his voice leaving him halfway through because he can't _breathe_ , “when Warlocks didn't have to whore themselves out to _Shadowhunters_ ,” the word just a hiss in his mouth, he twists the claws in Alec's flesh and Alec's muscles tense, he wants to scream but he can't, pain making his vision go white.

The Warlock is close enough that he can whisper in Alec's ear as he drags his hand back, blood dripping from his claws: “I'd like to go back to that time.”

Alec gasps, head bent forward as pain blinds him; he'd fall to the ground if it wasn't for the invisible ropes holding him up. He wants to say _good fucking luck with that if this is how you want to go about it,_ but he doesn't have enough breath left. Panic is pooling in his stomach again, curling around his tongue even though he tries to breathe, ropes tightening again around his chest.

This time, when the claws pierce the skin of his arm, agonizingly slow, the burning scream that leaves his throat twists in Magnus' name.

*

Magnus stills in the middle of the street, frozen, his magic snapping around him, wrapping tightly around his chest for a moment as a shiver runs down his spine, terror gripping his heart, and he _knows._

*

Alec is bleeding.

He's bleeding and he looks like he's not breathing and he's pale and Magnus feels rage climb up his throat so fast his magic burns as it wraps around his hands and arms, it leaves his eyes golden as energy snaps between Alec and the intruder, whoever the fuck he is, Magnus sends him flying backwards as he's turning around.

But Alec's expression twists like he's in even more pain and that's when Magnus sees the translucent ropes wrapped around his body, even tighter now that the Warlock is further away from him; he walks closer to him, and he _knew_ , of course he knew, it's too convenient to be a coincidence but betrayal still wraps painfully around his heart.

He lets his magic wrap around Apofis' throat, blood red as it leaves his fingers, cold rage taking over his pain. He drags him forward by the neck, body on the floor, he forces himself not to look at Alec or he'll panic. “Release him or die,” he says, voice cold.

Apofis laughs despite the magic closing around his throat, a chilling sound accompanied by a deep hiss: “My old friend,” he coughs up the words, “Let's watch him die instead.”, he turns his yellow eyes on Alec and Magnus feels cold all over as he does the same; his hands shake.

“Your choice,” he growls, voice unsteady. He curls his fingers towards his palm and his magic tightens around Apofis' throat, something cruel and wild satisfied in his chest when Apofis' skin turns red, his magic around Alec weakens and finally breaks, and Magnus sends him flying against the wall with a snap of his arm, and he's immediately shaking, so hard he can barely stand, he falls gracelessly next to Alec, who's coughing as he tries to breathe, tears streaming down his face, skin white because of the blood he's lost.

Magnus' hands are shaking so much he can barely reach the stele in Alec's belt and hand it to him, torn between making sure that he'll be okay and tearing Apofis apart.

“You'll be okay,” he whispers as Alec breathes hard, brushes the stele against the Iratze, he lets blue magic flow from his fingers to help with the pain as he pushes Alec's hair away from his forehead.

“He made you weak,” Apofis barks behind them, coughing with every word as he tries to stand up again, “I remember when you cared about your own people. You think this is over?” Magnus closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, “Others will come for him. They'll always co – ”, but the words die in his throat as Magnus turns and stalks over to him, his magic making the loft shake as his fingers curl like claws and red energy closes around Apofis' body, lifting him off the ground.

“Let them come,” Magnus growls, his magic heating up, the smell of burned flesh filling the air, “You'll serve as an example.”

“Magnus.”

It's only Alec's weak voice that stops him from killing him immediately.

He turns, eyes still burning now focused on Alec's pale face: “It's not – worth it.”

Magnus' frustration sends a burst of energy through the red rope, it would take a snap of his fingers to kill him because _Alec, his_ Alec is so weak he can barely talk, but the decision is taken away from him when six Shadowhunters barge into the loft, lead by Jace, Clary and Izzy, swords unsheathed.

Everyone is still, taking in the scene before them, until Magnus swiftly moves his arm and makes Apofis land at Jace's feet. “Take him where I'll never see him again,” he says darkly.

Jace locks eyes with him and nods.

*

He's curled around Alec and he can't stop brushing his fingers against his skin, like he's still checking for injuries, still looking for Alec's heartbeat.

“I'm fine,” Alec murmurs, patient, voice still a bit weak; he laces his fingers with Magnus' and holds them over his heart, “Really.”

Magnus sighs against his hair, gently pulls at his fingers to make him lie on his back; he rests his head on Alec's shoulder. “I'm sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Alec reminds him, again. His fingers move gently on Magnus' back.

Magnus' finger curl in the fabric of Alec's shirt, holding it tighter: “I'm still sorry.”

“Hey,” Alec says, and it's clear from his tone that he wants Magnus to look at him; Magnus, obviously, does. “I can't promise you it won't happen again, but we'll be more careful, okay? And what happened – it has nothing to do with us, as far as I'm concerned. It was about him and his – _issues_.”

A small smile curls Magnus' lips as Alec tries to come up with the right word and settles on _issues._ He buries his nose in Alec's neck a little bit more.

“I'll think like that tomorrow,” he says, “Today I'll just hold you.”

He can feel Alec's fond smile buried in his hair as he whispers: “Okay.”


End file.
